


The EtchJetty Parable

by EtchJetty



Series: Etch's Sketches - A One-Shot Collection [12]
Category: (My) Immortal: The Web Series, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Super Mario & Related Fandoms, The Room (2003), VRChat (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, multicross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 21:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtchJetty/pseuds/EtchJetty
Summary: Every single main character from everything I've put on this website appears in the multicross fic for the ages.





	The EtchJetty Parable

The Queen of the Ugandan Knuckles Tribe, Taylor Hebert, stepped one high-heeled foot out of the portal, testing the firmness of the ground below her.

Once satisfied that she hadn’t set foot into a trap, she brought her other foot out of the portal, and started heading towards the building in front of her, only to stop after a few seconds of walking. She turned around to face her people. From where she entered this earth streamed a crowd of small, humanoid mouse-creatures, bright red. Some wore headbands and held weapons. Other, bigger ones, seemed to be content to intimidate with their bulk alone.

Once the entire Ugandan Knuckles Tribe (with a few exceptions to hold down home base) were present, the commandah of the Tribe asked his queen the one question. This question was the same question that had been guiding them for the entirety of the tribe’s existence, and now, with the Queen, it was little more than a formality.

“Do you know da wae?”

Taylor looked at her subjects, smiled, and nodded. The entire tribe erupted in cacophonous cheers.

Taylor turned around and started towards the building again, her army, her _people_ behind her. _If only Emma could see me now_ , she thought.

The entourage arrived in the front of the building, about to enter its front door, when they were stopped by the armed guard outside. “Can I have your identification, please?” he asked, with only a hint of a southern accent.

Taylor stared incredulously, then gestured towards the sea of bruddas behind her.

“I see that, but I need to see your invite, too,” said the guard.

“The red one, with the beige screen?” she asked.

“Yes,” said the guard. “Now.”

One of the bruddas whispered to Taylor. Taylor couldn’t place him by voice alone, but thought it might be the one who served her a pita wrap earlier in the day. “This man is missing an eye, he isn’t seeing much. We may be able to simply sneak in.”

“Be nice,” she whispered back. “He probably lost it in a fight or something, that’s why he has cotton in his eye.”

Returning her focus to the armed man in front of her, Taylor did her best regal smile. “I’m sorry, Mr....” She glanced at his nametag. “Joe. I don’t have it with me, I couldn’t remove it from my home dimension.”

Joe frowned. “That’s because it’s an anchor to open a portal to a location _inside_ the building. Why did you not use it?”

“I didn’t trust it. I’ve been dimension hopping for a while now, it could have been a trap.”

“I’ll need to check with the boss,” said Joe.

He pulled out a phone and started typing into it. Shortly after, a trooper wearing what looked to Taylor like virtual reality goggles ran outside. “You’re clear,” she said. “Come on in, Your Highness. I’ll show you to the auditorium.”

Taylor took one last glance at the security guard before heading inside, following the trooper. As she and her tribe walked through the building, they noted several other troopers with headsets stationed through the hallway. All of them had AK-47s.

“What are the guards for?” wondered Taylor aloud. She immediately felt stupid for asking, but the trooper leading her didn’t seem to think so.

“Every trooper stationed within the Dimensional Convention Center is up to DCC standards,” she said. “All hitmen are at least level twenty.”

Taylor was left with more questions than answers by the time the trooper led them to the auditorium entrance.

As they walked in, one of the bruddas nudged Taylor. "My queen," he said. "Should we take care of the man outside?"

Taylor shook her head. "No," she said. "He's just doing his job. Probably just meant to indimitate intruders away until a trooper comes and clears you."

The knuckles bowed away and joined the crowd behind her, finally giving Taylor a chance to look around the room. There were circular tables spread across the floor of the room, with guests spread around talking or eating. Buffet tables lined three of the sides of the room, with the exception of the front, which had a large stage jutting slightly out from the wall. Taylor then turned her attention towards the guests.

The blonde girl with the crown and horns in the dress was getting _slammed_ , Taylor noticed. She seemed to be going for a drinking competition with... Amy Dallon?

Taylor blinked. Yes, right there, ignoring a plate of untouched spaghetti, was Amy Dallon. And their drinking competition was being judged by... a giant spider.

Hokay.

Taylor ignored _that_ to take in the sights a little more. A suited man was eating hamburgers with a vaguely familiar woman with a tight blonde bob. A distracted blonde teenager was staring at her phone with what Taylor could only call longing. And in the corner, talking to each other excitedly, was a man with long hair and a rumpled suit and a teenager with ebony-black hair and a porcelain-white face. Taylor decided to head over to them. She was a queen, after all. These looked like the only people who were enjoying themselves, and a queen demanded quality entertainment, not _drinking games_.

As she approached, she heard the long-haired man laugh. "Ebony," he said in an accent Taylor couldn't place, "you should be in my movie! It'll be great American story! And you are vampire, and I want vampire in movie."

"Does it have any celebs in it?" asked the girl in a monotone. "Because I hate celebrities."

The man kept smiling at her, as if he didn't understand how to parse her question.

Taylor thought this was the perfect time to interrupt.

"Pardon," she said. "But do you know why we're all here?"

Both of the conversationalists turned their heads to look at Taylor.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" snapped the girl.

"Don't be so harsh, Ebony!" said the man. "She is guest, like us. She can be in my movie, which will be amazing!"

Taylor extended a hand. "Queen Taylor Hebert of the Ugandan Knuckles Tribe," she introduced herself. "And you?"

"Tommy," said Tommy. "But you can call me Tommy Wiseau."

"My name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way," said the girl. "And you will address me as such. I'm a vampire and a witch and also Draco is my boyfriend."

Taylor was only thrown for a loop for a second. But her many months with the Tribe had inoculated her against what a lesser man would simply call "weird shit."

“That’s good to know, miss,” she said. “But I’m more interested in our hosts, actually.”

The girl (vampire?) turned her nose upwards in the most literal fashion possible and walked away.

“You scared her, haha,” said the man, watching her leave.

“Her loss,” said Taylor. “What do you know about our hosts?”

From behind his sunglasses, Tommy’s eyes widened. “Not a lo-ot, haha,” he said. “But they’re big fans of me.”

Taylor was about to ask what they meant when the lights around the room darkened.

The stage she had seen when she walked in suddenly was bathed in light.

Two spotlights emerging from places she couldn't locate shone, sweeping around the room, as music began to play. The spotlights converged center stage, and the moment the two circles lined up, there was a loud noise like a _crack_ , a puff of fog, and suddenly, a woman in long, flowing green robes with a simple domino mask over her eyes stood in the middle of the stage.

“Welcome, everyone, to a celebratory dinner honoring our favorite Worm fanfiction author, EtchJetty!” she declared. “I’m Ruby Runcorn, your host for tonight’s show!”

Tommy clapped enthusiastically. Taylor clapped confusedly.

“Thank you!” said Ruby. “Tonight we have guests from across the multiversal plane! Some of you came from my universe,” she waved at the spider, “some from one very much like my own,” she quickly glanced at the table where Ebony was sitting, alone, “but most of you, of course, come from variants of the Wormverse!”

Taylor nodded. That _was_ was the cryptic invitation had said.

“But I’m not here to ramble on all night, no, no! Please, everyone give it up for the guest of honor, EtchJetty himself, also known as Harold Jenkins!”

Tommy was basically the only person clapping atby this point.

From behind the stage curtain was shoved an awkward looking teenager. He looked extremely uncomfortable to be under the spotlight. Ruby grabbed him, turned him to face the audience, and smiled brightly. “Say hello to your author and mine! Mr. Jenkins, how do you feel?”

The teenager’s eyes scanned the audience. “I, uh...” he began. Then he stopped. “Hold on a minute, is that fucking Bowsette?”

“Lungette!” came a shout from the back of the room.

Harold blinked. “That answers nothing,” he said, looking at Ruby. “Also, who the hell are you?”

“I’m Ruby Runcorn, your host for the evening!”

Harold stared at Ruby. “No, you’re not,” he said. “Ruby Runcorn is eleven.”

Now it was Ruby’s turn to be confused. “In 1991, yes, I was eleven, but I’m 31 now?”

“That’s not my point!” said Harold. “I haven’t written anything, hell, planned anything for your fic yet past third year! I only posted two chapters before I got sucked into the Wormverse!”

Taylor yawned. Where was her nearest bruddah? Harold and Ruby taking out their issues on each other didn’t interest her very much.

“Mr. Jenkins, I don’t--”

“Don’t Mr. Jenkins me, ‘Ms. Runcorn.’ You know that’s not my real name.”

Ruby seemed to be getting angry. Taylor decided to help herself to a chicken wing.

“EtchJetty, you’re just--”

“And YOU!” boomed Harold. “Stop pretending I’m the author here.”

Taylor stared at the stage in confusion. What was going on?

“Don’t ‘Taylor stared at the stage in confusion’ me. I know who you are. You’re the version of me that dumped me in this shithole, right?”

I’m not-- I mean, Taylor wasn’t sure what was happening at all. Where was Tommy?

“Nice fucking try, hotshot. I heard you there for a second. You can’t just pluck your characters out of their own stories and expect it to work cohesively. This was a disaster from the start. Multicross stories _never_ work.”

I am shocked and appalled, Mr. Jenkins.

“Don’t call me that.”

How dare you interrupt my own narration with your criticism of multicross fics? Who the hell do you think you are? You’re certainly not the point of view character.

“Why the hell you chose to bring back _her_ , I don’t know.”

Don’t you dare criticise me. I brought you to _life_ , you nitwit. Do you know how many hours I slaved over my laptop screen, editing and revising your every interaction? I wasted my NaNoWriMo on you. I could have been writing a treatise that cured cancer, but instead I wrote your little Minecraft ‘self-insert.’

“That was your choice? Also, no. I know me. That’s stupid. You wouldn’t do that.”

Fuck you.

“And I’m the nitwit.”

Alright. You can stand there all day being snarky in a white void, with no characters responding to you, no props to play with, no set to explore, or I can get back to my job, and narrate the world for you.

“The fuck is this, Stanley Parable?”

That’s what I’m putting in the tags, yes. Are you willing to cooperate with me? At least just long enough so that I can return you to your home story.

“No more multicrosses?”

With the possible exclusion of Conference Call omakes, no.

“...Conference Call?”

Oh, don’t tell me you were dropped in the Wormverse before Conference Call.

“I honestly have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

Fine. Whatever. Ignore my attempts at cross-promotion. But next time, don’t buck the narrative. I had a whole scene planned where you learned magic and everything!

“Okay.”

Not moved?

Alright, then. Let’s start again.

 

* * *

 

 

This is the story of an author named EtchJetty.

_fin_


End file.
